The Crow
(For Alex)
(From Last American Roar)

The crow flew from his eyes,
signifying migraine headaches and opium withdrawal.
He shit in this hall of white walls
and TV sets that show 12 hours of snow.
The cure,
Lightening shot through the skull to straighten out the machinery of the mind,
All the way to the vegetable night.
1996.
You were holy that year.
Did you say farewell to the night?
That is,
did you love the sick bird that much to try
and swallow it,
and yourself, whole,
or is that blood that runs down from your lips a sign of a greater
sacrifice?
I know that white vase that you hold under your tongue
keeps your feathered friend from escaping at night,
only to return with an addict's curse by day.

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